


Haunt Me

by gutterlow



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Multi, Suicide mention, Violent Death, death mention
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-23
Updated: 2016-01-15
Packaged: 2018-04-23 01:37:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4858247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gutterlow/pseuds/gutterlow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What would you give to be with someone you loved? Dirk Strider is willing to lay down anything in this AU for even a ghost of a chance for the one he's fallen so hard for. But how can death do them apart if one of them is already dead? As the story goes on, so do the limits of what he's willing to do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Haunt Me

You never meant to fall in love. Not ever, not with anyone. Especially not with him. Of all people. Of all the cruel and twisted things. Why did you have to love him. Hands tremoring slightly you reach forward and tentatively touch the others cheek. You can feel your neck craning forward and your lips pucker as you get ready to kiss him. Your eyes slide close and you.. fall. Your chin slams into the ground and you gasp sharply as you bite your tongue. Dazed, you lay there, before shakily crawling to your knees. Tears slide down your cheeks slowly at first, but soon begin to pour as choked sobs rack your body. Someone is saying your name. You ignore it and continue to sob. The calling of your name is more persistent. You lift your head up and stare into the crimson eyes of the love of your life.

 

\-----

 

Dirk clicked the tab of pesterchum closed, pushing himself back from his computer. He stood up and groaned a bit, his legs numb from sitting so long. Casting a quick glance around his room, he grumbles at the mess he'd now have to clean. With a loud sigh he bends down and begins to gather the spare parts and other clusters of broken machines decorating the floor of his room. Dirk nudges the door of his closet open with his foot and begins to stuff it with all his junk. A good three hours of work later and his closet is stuffed to the brim and his floor is spotless. In the back of his mind it hit him he'd have to handle the the "skeletons in his closet" eventually. Eventually, he chided himself, deciding this was more than enough for the time being. He looks up at the clock and hisses a 'shit' under his breath because he hadn't even asked his Bro if his friends could come over. Pushing down the chance of rejection, dragging his feet like rag dolls, Dirk knocks on D's office. He leans over and peers through the window to see the older strider hunched over his computer with his shades next him, nose scrunched in concentration. Dirk mumbles under his breath before coming in, clearing his throat.

"Yo, broseph."

Head lifting up groggily, D stares at Dirk, dark circles under his frowning eyes. "Did I fuckin' say you could come in, kid."

Dirk swallows down his retort and goes for a smile and chipper tone. "Oh, my bad. Listen I know it's a little late an' all but—"

Dirk cuts himself off when D raises his hand, his index finger pointed at the ceiling. "Don't disturb my work and I." He raises another finger. "Don't fuckin' smash the apartment." Another finger. "No drinkin' or shit." His lips twitch up in a grin and he waves Dirk off, bringing his hand back to the mouse. "Have fun, kiddo."

The teen exhales loudly, shoulders dropping in relief. "Thanks man. And you got it."

D doesn't respond, gives more of an incoherent noise, which Dirk takes as a "your welcome." He closes the door to his older brother's office and pads back to his room, flopping down on his chair. Grinning to himself, Dirk opens the tab to pesterchum and sends off a few messages. He checks the time again and moves over to his bed, flopping down. There was a good three or so hours before his friends would arrive, and a power nap sounded great. Shifting in his bed he stares at the sword hanging from his wall, feeling his stomach tighten. His brother had gotten it as a gift a few years back from his friends grandfather, when he was off on some trip on the the other side of the world. Dirk thought it was the coolest thing ever when he was little, and begged and begged until D had finally agreed to let him have it when he was sixteen. He shivered as he continued to stare at the sword, goosebumps covering his arms, even after owning and staring at it for nearly two years. Slipping his hand under his shades and tossing them onto his nightstand, he rolls over and closes his eyes, heaving a little sigh as he drifts off into sleep...


	2. Chapter 2

Dirk is roused from his sleep by the knocking at the door and the hushed shouting from the other side. One hand moved to rub his eyes as the other plucked his shades of the nightstand adjacent to the mattress. Lethargically, the teen drags his feet across the floor and to the front door. He clicks open the door's lock and steps back, as the door flings open, Roxy spilling onto the floor. Not even giving Dirk a chance to make sure she's okay, Roxy is jumping up, throwing herself at the strider. Stumbling back at the sudden force, Dirk falls flat on his ass- dazed. Roxy isn't phased in the slightest and digs her knees into Dirk's thighs, her arms tightening around his neck. A strangled noise slips through his lips as his cheeks flare red from the lack of air. Jane is the next to come in, her eyes wide as the spoons she baked with as she sees the spectacle of limb and leg.

"Hhheelp—" Dirk wheezes.

"Golly, I'm not sure I can, Strider." Her round cherry lips are turned up in a smile, shoulders shaking in not-so-silent laughter.

Offended at Dirk's lack of returned affection, Roxy crawls off Dirk, kneeling in front of him, her thin lips pursed together in a pout. "Di Stri yurr s'posed to hug me baaaackk."

Rubbing the irritated flesh on his thighs, Dirk gives Roxy a look, exchanging a silent conversation.

'You know I love you but I do not love your hugs in the slightest.'

'You hush your mouth my hugs are the bomb diggity bestest.'

'Shove a test tube up your tight virgin ass.'

Roxy lips furl up exposing her teeth in a wide smirk. Leaning up to the other she whispers in his ear, puffing out a breath against his skin. "Who said I was virgin, Blondilocks?"

Groaning he shoves his half sister off of him, ears a little pink. Jane is watching the exchange in amusement, only turning her attention away when the last of the four enters the doorframe laden down with the luggage of the three guests. Jane's round cheeks flush pink and she extends her hand to help unload some of the baggage from the bulky boy. Between the two of them, they managed to get everything settled down by the front entry way. The darker haired of the two boys pushes the door shut and heaves a sigh of relief, slumping down onto the floor.

"While I know.. I offered to carry everything.. I did not... quite expect.. it to be.. such... a problem?" He offers a wry smile and heaves as he strains to catch his breath. After a few more moments of his gasping he's gotten himself under control, turning his head to Dirk. "Goodness gracious! It is really wonderful to see you, Dirk!"

Dirk can feel his shades pushing up on his nose while he smiles widely, glad to see his friends. He takes a good, long look at each of them, taking in every little detail. He takes note of Roxy's newest experimentation with her hair. Her nearly white pale blonde locks are now dyed pink on the tip of the bouncy curls. His eyes moved down to look her body over. Her dark skinned self was still skinny as a twig and, he sourly admitted, still taller. A crop top with a hot pink cat holding a test tube and wearing an apron on a pale pink cloth clung loosely to her frame, a black tank underneath it. She wore ripped, black shorts and knee high cat socks, topped with a pair of old converse. A wave of nostalgia washed over Dirk, seeing how Roxy had barely changed from her younger self. Nothing stood out from Jane. Besides maybe a little longer hair and a larger frame, donned with a long sleeved teal shirt that read "Kiss the cook" in red cursive. The Crocker's skirt was a nice color white and red plaid, stopping above her thigh high colorless socks striped once around the top in Crimson. Lingering eyes rested on Jake, lips pursing together while his stomach did a nose dive. The island boy's skin was a rich dark color, tight over muscular hairy arms and legs, his frame built up and much larger compared to Dirk. His khaki shorts hung loosely around his knees, a white shirt with a green skull in the center framing his torso. Always kind of assuming they were both equally active, Dirk just narrowed it down to body type. His own lithe frame was fit and pale, speckled with blotches of freckles across his shoulders and nose. It was hard not to feel conscious of the size difference between himself and Jake, but he brushed it off, wanting to have a fun night with his friends, not wrestle with his emotions.

Stepping back, arms opening in a wide welcoming gesture, Dirk grins at the other three teens. "Welcome to my house, bro-friendos."

The trio all gave Dirk warm looks of affection. It was such an amazing feeling to see everyone. It was such an amazing feeling to be with his best friends. Dirk was buzzing with a low enthusiasm and bounced up and down a little in excitement, Roxy mimicking his little joyous jumps with much more enthusiasm.

Before anyone could make another comment, a wicked grin cracked across Lalonde's face. Jake moved away in discomfort, his hands grabbing at the hem of his shirt. Jane pursing her lips in concern, the most stern look of motherly disapproval on her rounded face. Dirk's face mimicked the other males for a moment, before it converted to an easy grin.

"What are you scheming Lalonde?" The Strider raised the question along with an eyebrow.

"I brought a Ouija board." She responded with a cool smile and tone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the weird hump in the writing, probbaaabbbllyyy shouldnt have taken such a long break from this. My bad-


	3. Chapter 3

"I brought a Ouija Board."

Dirk's stomach dropped to the soles of his feet and his breath caught in his throat. The smile faded from his face along with the all the carefree enthusiasm that filled the room moments ago. A long, drawn out pause followed Roxy's statement, none of the kids wanting to break the heavy weighted silence first. Seemingly unaffected- or ignoring- the awkward tension, Roxy hoisted her bag from the floor. It was an obnoxious thing; hot pink sequins dangling from the rosy fabric, key chains jingling and swinging around from every available zipper, and pouches jam packed with whatever it was Roxy deemed a "necessity." Her hand wrapped around a bundle of the zipper's decor, tugging it down to the other side to reveal the contents of her carry on. Clothes protruded at awkward angles, stuffed in as if they were an afterthought. All the eyes in the room gaped at darkly stained fabric morphed into the form of the board it was cradling. With a loud 'thump' the bag was discarded, Roxy's hands holding out the lump of fabric. Her maniac grin had not been daunted and stayed engraved into her cheeks. Jane shifts her weight from foot to foot uncomfortable with the presence of the unseen game, a very superstitious person herself. Jake cannot look at the board or in Roxy's general direction anymore, his shoulders hunched forward as they give barely noticeable trembles. Dirk can't take his eyes off of the board, the buzz of excitement from before deadened but starting to revive. A faint flicker of a memory tickles the back of his mind, a memory of asking his older brother if they could try it. He recalled how fast D shot him down, explaining to the young child some toys weren't meant to played with. It wasn't until now, it wasn't until he saw, until he felt the ominous weight this board carried, that he could grasp what he had meant all that time ago. Dirk was the first to find his voice, and spoke up, pausing to clear his throat after the first word came out cracked.

"Rox, maybe this isn't a good idea."

The tension from the room dropped like a stone. A loud babble rose from each of the teens, with Roxy being the exception, voicing their discomfort and "maybe this was in fact not a good idea." The smile carved so deeply in Roxy's face converted to a disappointed frown, her brows pressing together and up in her pout.

"Gggguuuuyyyysss, y'all are all' bein' big baaabbbiiieeeeesss. This 'ull be fun, really!" Roxy whines out her arguement, her foot stamping the ground in childish frustration.

"Dear, I am sure it would be a lot of fun, but it isn't really..." Jane looks to Jake for help, and Jake flusters then jerks his head towards Dirk. The Strider lifts a finger to push his shades up his nose, subtly flipping off English.

"It ain't really these babies definition of'a g'ud time. I'm all down for it," he paused to look at the other two, "but we don't wanna scare 'em, do we Rox?" This is complete bullshit, because quite frankly he's shaking in his metaphorical boots. Like hell he'd let anyone else know that, so he brushed it off with a cool lie and cover up.

As soon as the words are out of his mouth the "two babies" bristle up defensively, Jake the most vocal.

"Why- Strider, you take that back! I am not afraid of anything, let alone some silly old board, that probably most likely and most hopefully does not work!"

"Sorry, English, I ain't takin' nuthin' back. And you sure as hell are scared of some 'silly ole board,' that I bet works real good."

"Boooysssss, please. There iiiiisssssss a way to sooolllvveeee thiiiis!" Interrupting in a sing song voice Roxy lifts the board, the sheet fallen down exposing the naked wood.

Silence presses down in response to the exposure of the wood. The wood is a light color, etched into it are words, letters, numbers, the typical thing. Unlike most cheaper ones, this had to be hand made. Blotches of age stained here and there, along with stains of an unrecognizable substance. If it hadn't such a dark power, such a heavy lore attached, it would have been beautiful. Dirk's eyes locked with the board, following the precise engravings, appreciation for the elegant craftsmanship tugging at his heart. No backing out now, he swallowed down his nervousness and forced a confident grin.

"Yer right, sis. Playin' is tha' only way."

"I. I second- I suppose third. That notion." The island boy's voice comes out meek, his face paled.

"Jake!" The sudden squeak comes from Jane, her face twisted in fear. "Roxy, please, this is not a good idea!" Her hands are clasped over her torso, visibly trembling.

Roxy casts a sympathetic glance at Jane, moving over to toss an arm around her shoulders. The girl squeezes her close and presses a soft kiss to her forehead as a way of apologizing. "Sorry Janey but we're gunna do it."

Turning to press her face into Roxy, Janes hands clasp handfuls of shirt and grip it tightly, little whimpers escaping. Guilt grabs ahold of the teens as they watch Jane suffer through her superstitious fears. Jake quickly brings up he was alright with being a chicken, and didn't mind not engaging with the board. Mumbling a "same here" Dirk gently places a hand on Jane's shoulders and gives it an affectionate squeeze. Jake follows suit in moving over to comfort Jane, chin resting on the top of her head as his arms moved around both of the girls. Bright blue eyes drop to the floor in shame, embarrassment turning Jane's round cheeks red. It took her a moment to find her voice in this overwhelming amount of comfort.

"I don't want to hinder the fun, dears.." Her voice starts quiet before easing into a strong tone. "I'm quite alright with playing."

"Janey, baby, we don't expect you to play, we don't even gotta play." Roxy reassured her, lips pressing to the baker's forehead.

"I'm no spoil sport Roxy, I say we go ahead and play." She's very firm with her tone, eyes set in a determined frown.

No one argues. Leading the kids to his room, Dirk pushes the door open. His eyes watch each of his friends scurry inside and sit down in a wide circle. Orange eyes lock with the sword above his bed, his stomach twisting in knots as he takes his place in front of the board. Before they are allowed to do anything, Roxy explains there is some shit they need to know. Her explanation is abrupt and to the point, making sure it was clear with them all before allowing them to continue.

"The most important thing. Is we all. Say. Goodbye." Her blazing rose eyes look to each of them, unnervingly staring for a few moments before turning to the next and finally finishing to stare at the board. "Dirk, I think you should do it." 

Dirk stiffens. He takes a deep breaths before he reaches forward, fingers grazing over the wood. It's ice cold feel startles the already nervous teen, hands yanking back and hovering over his chest. A pick up in his breath adds to the already weighted tension, all pairs of eyes watching Dirk's hands. Again, he reaches forward. This time he keeps his nerves in check, and grabs the planchette.

Stuttering out the first question, desperately trying not to trip over the words, the Strider sputters out, "Is anyone there?"

Breath is held caged in the lungs of every kid, all eyes locked on Dirk's hands. Hands that are now shaking, little beads of sweet dribbling down his fingers. When nothing happens the sound of relieved breathing fills Dirk's ears, his nerves only getting more tense. Swallowing a few times his throat going ridiculously dry, he tries to speak again.

"Is- Is anyone there?"

The cold piece under Dirk's fingers suddenly feels hot to the touch and twitches towards the "yes."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shit gunna get real real fast


	4. Chapter 4

The cold piece under Dirk's fingers suddenly feels hot to the touch and twitches towards the "yes."

Dirk jerks his hand back, staring at the board wide eyed. No way it just moved. He imagined it. His eyes quickly scan the faces of his friends, who in turn study Dirk with some confusion. So he just imagined it then. Throat tightening and ears turning red with embarrassment he slowly lowered his hands down to his lap. The teen didn't want to look at the board. Trying to stifle his discomfort, the boy shifted and hunched down a little.

"I. Uh. Thought it moved." Unsureness laced his quivering voice, orange eyes catching Roxy's.

She catches Dirk's embarrassment. Catches the silent hint. Chiming in, a hand decorated with pink nails and rings raises. "I saw it too." Dirk's shoulders drop down in his relief, eyes closing with a quiet sigh. Jane huddled closer to Jake, intertwining her fingers in his. The island boy looked distressed at the sudden close contact but stayed still and reluctantly complied with Jane. Before anyone can respond, there's a knock and a throat clearing by the doorway. D is leaning against the frame, a hand pressed to his forehead the other motioning Dirk to come over. Shit, he mumbles getting up. Dragging his feet across the floor he follows his brother out into the hallway, not looking back. Not noticing Roxy's panicked waves and hushed whispers of "get back here." Once enough distance had put between Dirk's room and the Striders, D turned to Dirk with a bitter expression. The moment he'd been pulled out of his room Dirk knew there'd be trouble. Realization hit him hard that he and his friends must have caused a ruckus. Nervous energy started to build up in the back of his throat as his foot tapped the grounded in an agitated manner. Fuck, he had to have seen the board too, oh crap he's gonna kill me, I'm dead, I'm gonna be dead, shit was he asleep, what if I woke him up, oh god oh god he's talking he's starting to talk-

"Dirk, calm down."

The breath he didn't know he was holding exhaled slowly.

"Christ, kid. Yer not on death row."

"Ha.. Ha. Right. I know."

"Uh-huh. But yer on my shit list."

That was worse. "Could I uh. Transfer to death row?"

"No."

"Is there even a chance I could be transferred?"

"No."

"Not even a sliver of a hope?"

"Dirk."

"Right. Listening."

D sighs and shakes his head as his hand rubs his temple a little harder. "You'nd yer friends got a little to loud, kid."

"Sorry."

A hand raised to silence Dirk. "Don't interrupt. I ain't done."

Oh boy.

"I know I said jus' two rules, but 'm gunna throw 'n anothur un'. You ain't allowed to let 'm stay the night." The younger male opens his mouth to protest but D's fierce scowl stops him in his tracks. "I got an early shift tomorrow. An' yer tryin' to keep it down, I know, but yer kids. Yer gunna get rowdy."

Dirk hangs his head in shame, ears flaring up crimson. He doesn't put up an argument, not yet at least.

"So 'm askin' ya nicely once. They can stay till then thirty, eleven at the latest. Got it?"

He lifted his head back up and responded. "Yessir."

"Ugh- Dirk, come on." There's a hint of a grin on his face as he slings an arm over his li'l bro's shoulders. "Cut out the sir crap, dweeb."

Dirk's face lights up into a smile and he playfully punches D's arm. "Oh, sir-yes-sir, dorkwad."

The two brothers laugh for a moment before D tussles up Dirk's hair and starts heading back to his room. "Have a g'night, kiddo."

"Night, man." He smiles after him for a moment, before going back to his room to greet the worried faces of his friends.

Roxy as per usual was the first to speak. "Dirk what happened are you alright are you dead oh my god he killed you-"

Dirk sighed, rolling his eyes and taking his seat back down in front of..

The board.

It was gone.

His face scrunched up in confusion as his now tilted head cocked up. "Where is the board?"

They all shifted. Jane squirming the most, Jake sweating awkwardly, and Roxy puffing her cheeks out big as they could go. So none of them were willing to answer. Fantastic. Dirk's confusion morphed into distaste, letting out a huff of angry hair. "Where's the board."

"I put it away."

"Great. So I guess that's out, huh? Fantastic. Fan-fucking-tastic. This night couldn't get any worse."

It was Dirk's friends turn to look confused, looking at each other in turn before turning to Dirk. Each of them chimed in unison. "What happened?"

"My bro says you guys can't stay the night."

The mood in the room drops.

"Guys, I'm really sorry."

Jake speaks up quietly. "S'alright, Dirk. It wasn't your fault."

"We understand." Jane reassured him, round lips turned up in a smile.

Dirk's eyes build up with water as his hand jerks up quickly to wipe it away, chin tilting ho and away from the gazes of his companions. "Oh- Fuck me, you guys are the best."

The rest of the night passes quietly and smoothly, everyone having a good amount of fun. When eleven finally rolls around Dirk's brother is back in the doorway, knocking softly on the frame. Solemnly the kids say goodbye, pack up, and leave. Once the door closes behind the last of the leaving trio, Dirk's shoulders slump forward, a heavy sigh slipping out. D has gone to bed but Dirk wasn't tired, but not exactly up for being awake. He figured he could kill an hour or two just watching some shitty shows, and settled down into the couch. Grabbing the remote and flicking on the tv, scrolling through Netflix until something decent popped up, the weary teen lounged. Around two thirty, he called it quits and shut everything down. Dragging his feet to his room he flicked on the light and changed, stripping down to a pair of shorts. The light was turned off and Dirk crawled into bed, slowly dozing off.

"Yo asshole."

Dirk stirred, blearily blinking up at the figure above him. "Dude- I'm trying to sleep.."

"Yeah, I was asleep, until your dickass woke me up."

His shoulders stiffen as his vision clears, focusing on the faint blur of the boy in front of him. "Uh-"

"Uh- uh- uh, fuckin' hello. Are you brain dead? Shit man, who's the fuckin' skeleton here."

Shock kept him from responding, mouth opening and closing in an attempt to answer.

Who the hell was this guy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dirk ur fucked bud


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dirk really hates people messing with his goddamn towels

Who the hell was this guy.

"Seriously man. What kind of festering shit sack of meat thinks he can just wake another guy up. 's just rude. Plain rude." The speaker's nose scrunched up, expression sourly staring down at Dirk. Realization hits the "sack of meat" that he doesn't know who this is. And this guy is in his room. In the middle of the night. Hairs along the back of Dirk's neck prick up as the teen chokes down a scream. Anger now replaces his fear and confusion, Dirk responding with a sharp retort. "Shut it, Rudolph. Who the hell are you and how did you get in."

The stranger sat back, lounging against nothing while he emitted a brighter cherry glow. It finally clicked in Dirk's tired mind that the dude was floating above his bed. What the actual fuck is going on, he thought to himself a little panicked. Whoever the floaty guy was, he didn't look very happy now. He lowered himself down, plopping on Dirk who let out a wheeze. "You invited me in."

"I.. Invited you?" Dirk was dumbfounded as to what the guy meant, eyes looking over the rather small frame of the other boy. His skin was pale, emitting a faint red glow, bringing out his ruby eyes. Pale peach locks were spiked up in a manner similar to Dirk's, almost unnoticeable light freckles splattered across his cheeks and nose. Shit. He was cute.

"You summoned me," he spat, "and had the fucking gaul to not say goodbye."

The kid looked pretty threatening, despite how young he looked.

"Holy shit. You're a ghost."

"Holy shit. You're a dumbfuck."

"Holy shit. You're fuckin' rude."

"Holy shit. Fuck you, dick."

"Holy shit. Fuck you too, jackass."

Dirk had sat up during the exchange, glaring down at the other. How the hella spirit could be so annoying without even starting the haunting bull shit he'd never know. Each boy was now a fairly good amount of pissed, neither willing to speak first. A good chunk of time passes before Dirk finally caved, leaning back as he questioned the spirit. "What's your name?"

"Hal."

"And you're dead?"

"No, I'm alive and well."

"You sure are rude for someone who's been in the ground for what. A thousand years?"

The light in the room emitting from Hal drops, leaving Dirk inky darkness. Panic rises and threatens to spill out his mouth in a shout, but he swallows it down and peers around the room for a sign of... anything. Blearily he blinks and rubs his eyes, easing back down before tugging the blanket up to his chin. His thoughts swam around, replaying the rather short exchange and trying to find meaning in it all. All his figurative thinking availed to no use and he drifted off, the image of Hal's face burning behind his eyelids. Was it all actually real?

\---

Light shines down through Dirk's window, arousing the Steider from his uneasy slumber. His head throbbed when he dragged himself out of bed, too out of it to notice the sword above it was unsheathed. Begrudgingly his feet moved to the bathroom, kneeing the door open, bending over the sink while a hand moved to turn the faucet. While the water was heating up Dirk searched for a towel. After finding there to be none in his bathroom, he sighed, turned off the water, and dragged himself to Bro's bathroom. It was marginally different than Dirk's, a large tub that could easily take two, three with a little squeeze. Decorative wallpaper hung with framed photos and other things Dirk deemed "unnecessary." Tossing open the cabinet door he bent over to check for towels, again finding none in sight. To make sure of this, he did a double sweep around bathrooms, huffing in frustration. The only place he could think they'd be in was the laundry room, but D never did it and Dirk hadn't touched all the towels in a while. Stranger things have happened, he thought to himself, flashing back to the events of early that morning, now deemed an odd dream. With an annoyed sigh he went to the laundry room, forcing the door open. The room was insanely cluttered. Clothes, a heap of swords broken and in perfect shape, wrappers, empty bottles, and other discarded items littered the floor. Shoved against the back wall of the rather small room was the washer and dryer. The banged up machines were older than Dirk, and it always bothered him D never bothered to replace them. They were both hunks of shit. Hunks of shit he'd love to take apart and use for a project. Maybe that's why D never got knew ones. He shook away his train of thought and started rummaging around in search of a towel. Frustrated when he found none on the floor or in the appliances he went back up to his room, planning on asking his brother where the fuck he'd put the goddamn towels.

Dirk's eyes widened as he stepped in, freezing in the doorway. The towels. All of the goddamn towels. On his bed. His floor. His desk. The widened eyes quickly screw shut as his hand moves to rub against his forehead.

"Fucking Christ." He mumbled digging out his phone from the heap on the bed. "Real funny, man!" He shouted as he dialed D's number, pressing the phone to his ear.

The irritated tapping of Dirk's foot was the only sound in the now deadened silence, until the line connected and began to ring. It rang once, twice, three times, no answer. Again Dirk dialed, the pbone ringing once, twice, three times, no answer. His frustration began to bubble over and his foot tapped harder against the ground, creating a steady rhythm in time with the ringing. After five calls with no answer Dirk calls it quits and jams the phone in his pocket. He begins the painstaking task of removing the towels from his room and downstairs, taking several trips. As he carries the last load down and dumps it into the washer, a wave of relief washes over, a content smile on his face. Finally. Done. Drained he heads back upstairs, planning on recharging with a nap. When he reaches the doorway to his room he almost screams. Those goddamn towels were back. Surging with anger he grabs fistfuls of the cotton material and slams it onto the ground, creating a large pile in the center of his room. All of his patience was gone, hands twitching with the urge to clock a fucker. D wasn't home. This shouldn't be happening. And who the fuck messes with towels. Fucking towels. Both hands move to the teen's face, pressing into his forehead as he groans disgruntled because of all the stupid fucking towels. Dragging his hands down his face he looks down to the pile.. the pile. The pile of towels was gone. His eyes dart up to his desk, where the towels sat.

"Goddammit fucK THE TOWELS!" Dirk yells as his hands form a fist and shake angrily in the air.

"Ahaha."

It's quiet.

He alsmot didn't catch it.

His shoulders were tense as he lowered his fists, eyes narrowing.

"Aha- Ohman- Ahaha-"

This time it's louder and Dirk knows he didn't imagine it. His voice comes out low in an attempt to keep it steady. "Who's there."

The voice that responds comes out high pitched and offended. "You already forgot me? And here I thought we had something special."

He groans. Not in fear, not in anger, not in sexual pleasure, just pure annoyance. Guess that dream was really a nightmare. That he was still enduring.

"When the fuck am I gonna wake up."

Hal responds with a cheery inside voice. "No one will save you, meatsack."

"I'm awake. And there's a ghost haunting me. Oh, fan-fuckin-tastic."

"Don't sound so excited," he huffed, "I ain't lookin' forward to this either."

"Then how about you leave me alone?"

Hal finally made himself visible, taking a sitting position in the air, face level with the other's. The contempt on his face is highlighted by the smirk. "Where's the fun in that."

Dirk makes an attempt at shoving the ghost, succeeding in throwing himself to the ground. Cackling fills his reddening ears as the spirit doubles over, Dirk slowly turning his head to watch.

"Ahahhaha- You really thought- I'd let you hit me- Oh man- Oh man, you are a fuckin riot, flesh stick."

Agitated and a little ashamed Dirk gets to his feet, passing through Hal as he seats himself at his desk. "My names Dirk."

Hal grins and straightens himself, moving to lounge behind Dirk's chairs.

"And leave my goddamn towels alone."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to work the chapters up to being longer but :,v ahh well one day I'll come back and rewrite this festering shitpost


	6. Chapter 6

The afternoon rolled around slowly, a good few hours passing with no more "towel incidents." Content with the quiet Dirk busied himself in his work and conversing with friends. Choosing not to mention his new "companion" Dirk kept the conversations light. He nearly jumped out of his skin, stomach grumbling loudly in irritation. Lunch time. Sending out a round of goodbyes and pausing his work Dirk made his way down to the kitchen. What to eat, what to eat... Finger tips glided over the contents of the pantry, pausing over each item to carefully inspect its label. As expected nothing jumped out and grabbed his attention.

"Where's D when ya need him."

Mouth watering he sighed out, the faint taste of his brother's cooking on his tongue. Watching the food network so often really became a useful skill to the elder strider, and a blessing to the younger. Dirk's hand brushed hair dangling over his forehead back, cheeks puffing up as again he scanned the options displayed in front of him. If he wasn't such a shitty cook he'd whip something up himself, but as it was preparing food differed greatly from robotics. A blessing and a curse he decided long ago. Eyes narrowed down to the lower shelf, the items were again examined. Bread, condiments, uncooked noodles, and paper ware were the only things occupying it, bread being the only item Dirk could work with. Letting out a pleased hum his fingers curled into the crinkling plastic and deposited the bag on the counter. Bread. Yes. Perfect. Little to clean up, easy to deal with. Perfect. Grabbing a plate from the cabinet above he set it down near the bread, moving to obtain the toaster. Toast was easy to make. Little chance of fire. Nice. Popping in two pieces, pausing to toss in two more, the toaster began the job of toasting the bread. Nothing was better than a toaster functioning as a toaster should and that function was toasting said bread. Things were good. Turning away, leaving the toaster to toast, Dirk obtained jelly and turned back to the holY FUCKING SHIT THE BURNING TOASTER OH NO THAT IS NOT HOW A TOASTER SHOULD FUNCTION OH N O TOASTER MAN BRO FRIEND MACHINE YOU HAVE ONE JOB AND THAT ONE JOB WAS TOASTING THE BREAD NOT CATCHING ON F I R E

Ripping the socket out the wall and turning on the sink, Dirk aimed the spray to burning toaster. Five minutes of a consistent stream and the fire was contained. Shakey hands turned the faucet off and he moved closer to the scorched hunk of metal that used to be the toaster. Oh dear. This was not the function of the toaster at all. Before Dirk could do anything a laugh starts up quiet, building up in volume and proximity. Whipping around, now nose to nose with his guest, Dirk snarls in frustration.

"You could have fucking killed me." He spat out.

"Oh dear, that'd really be awful. Then I'd have to spend eternity with you." Hal responded cooly, a smirk tugging up the corner of his lips.

"You- Ugh!" Throwing his hands up in exasperation and ending the conversation now, Dirk started to clean up the area of the fire. The counters had black spots along them from wayward chunks and the toaster was in absolute ruins. A perfectly good toaster. "How did you manage to wreck my goddamn toaster."

The ghost slides over, reaching a hand into one of the toaster's slots and pulling it out, fingers wrapped around a small mangled fork.

"Dick."

Tossing the fork into the sink he merely grins, taking great joy in his shenanigans and Dirk fury. This new situation overall wasn't bad. From Hal's prespective of course. Dirk was absolutely livid. He was going to do something, something was going to be done. As soon as he thought of something to do, of course. At the moment the only idea that came to mind was clocking that shitty spirit. And as he knew from experience, that would not work.

"Can you at least agree to maybe not mess with my things?"

"I thought your dad owned this place."

"That ain't-isn't my dad. That's my brother. And, yeah, I guess he does technically. But this is still my house, and you are a terrible fuckin' house guest."

"And you are just rude. What type of meat mannequin invites a fellow in, insults him, and then orders him around? No hospitality exists in the world anymore."

"Oh, and how would you know? You're what. A million years old? Explains why you're face is so messed up, did a dinosaur shit on it."

"Ha. Ha. I would know perfectly well what good manners are. And I am no where near that old, jackass."

"Ohhh, sure. How old are you then?"

"Seventeen."

"And how long have you been seventeen?"

"Thirteen years."

Dirk pauses. He wasn't that old then. Maybe he could find the graveyard he was buried in and leave some sort of sacrafice. Do ghosts like turtles?

"Excuse me while I go wreck more of your shit."

"Why the hell do you have to wreck my shit!?"

"Because I am awake. And your shit is going to be wrecked."

Giving Dirk one last wicked grin Hal vanished, the warmth of his glow now gone. A little twinge in Dirk's chest brought the fact he enjoyed that red shimmer to his attention, gagging after in disgust with the thought. Now that the distraction was gone, cleaning needed to be done. It took a good hour to finish; the toaster was disposed of, counter scrubbed, then scrubbed again, and a third time for that extra sparkle. Hungry, tired, and pissy from Hal's "pranks," Dirk decides to turn in for the night. Trodding up to his room he thinks over the information given to him. Thirteen years really wasn't that long ago. Ass meets chair with a quiet plop as Dirk starts surfing the web. His searches pull up nothing after nothing, getting a little frustrated there was no record of anything online about the guy.

""recent deaths thirteen years ago asshole named hal""

No results.

""dick named Hal died thirteen years ago""

No results.

""this fucking pisshole given the name hal who got shit on by a fucking dinosaur""

No results, that were remotely useful. Unless, he mused, you were into that sort of thing.

About to give up, he tries a few more searches, sitting up in his seat when something comes up.

Hal Lalonde. Murdered, December third.

Dirk felt his stomach drop. He was murdered at seventeen?

Curiosity goads him to dig deeper, uncovering barely anything on the case. It looked as if no one really investigated the crime, or cared to discuss it publicly. He saved a couple of tabs and scribbled down a couple of links, the ones that were most relevant.

Feeling a little nauseous going to bed seemed like the best option. Powering down his computer before crawling up under the sheets, Dirk's eyes met the unsheathed sword for the first time. Transfixed on the glimmering blade his eyes traveled up and down the steel, noticing the faint tint of red and barely visible glow. In the morning Dirk decided to ask D about that sword, and to try and dig deeper into the other's past. Eyelids sliding shut Dirk uneasily slipped into sleep, dark dreams plaguing him through the night..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my writing style is all over the pla c e oo p s


End file.
